


Set Me On Fire

by terryh_nyan



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Anal Play, Begging, Biting, Bodyswap, Bottom Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Community: seasonofkink, Consentacles, Control, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Kink Bingo 2020, Kinky, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Overstimulation, Power Play, Self-Discovery, Self-cest, Tentacle Dick, Top Eddie Brock, Wall Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryh_nyan/pseuds/terryh_nyan
Summary: Eddie reaches up with one tendril along the side of his face and just… touches him.“Wow,” he sighs in amazement. “So that’s how it feels like.”“Like what feels like?” Venom bites back, trying to keep his voice even.“Touching you. Like, really touching you.” The tendril makes its way down Venom’s – Eddie’s – neck, tracing his collarbone, almost feather-light. “No retreating, no liquefying whenever you feel like it, just… having you there. The way you have me.”---Venom keeps taking control of Eddie’s body without permission. Eddie finally figures out how to return the favor. Bodyswap!fic.
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote
Comments: 20
Kudos: 392
Collections: Season of Kink





	Set Me On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the filthiest thing I've ever posted to this archive (or any archive).  
> Written for Season of Kink 2020. Prompt: "Power Play".  
> Enjoy!

“You know,” Eddie complains as his right hand zaps, unprompted, to clutch at several boxes of brownie mix. “You could just _ask_.”

 _Faster this way_ , Venom’s voice rumbles inside him. Eddie can practically _feel_ the careless shrug in his words, and he knows he shouldn’t let it bother him – God knows he’s used to it by now – but when has Eddie Brock ever been known to just let things go?

So, when they’re back from the store and putting things away in the tiny cupboards of their tiny kitchen, of course he brings it up. “We’ve talked about this, V. Many times. Unless it’s life-and-death – or, I don’t know, unless I’m dropping a Ming Dynasty vase in the office of some corporate dickbag – you _cannot_ just… take over my body. It’s not cool.”

Sometimes, Eddie fools himself into thinking that he can actually get through the thick, gelatinous skull of his newly-acquired alien roommate. He’s a sucker for hope – sue him.

And when Venom – the _asshole_ – actually pretends to sit back and listen, Eddie, being a sucker, even believes him.

_But, Eddie. I see two problems with what you’ve just said._

Eddie raises an eyebrow, placing a box of brownie mix at the top of a precarious pile. He doesn’t even _bake._ “And what would those be?” he asks, because Venom seems to be using a reasonable tone of voice, and Eddie’s trying to be more mindful of others since the whole Anne fiasco.

 _First: it’s our body_ , the symbiote points out – which, if Eddie were inclined to ignore the crystal clear manipulation in those words, would actually be a point worth exploring. But it’s Venom, so of course he doesn’t stay on the side of reason for long. Instead, he hisses _Second…_ low and quiet in the back of Eddie’s mind, and Eddie feels the telltale pull of foreign force on his limbs. _I can.  
_

And, just like that, Venom marches him to the other side of the room like an obedient little soldier.

_See?_

Now, Eddie does not consider himself to be an angry person. To the contrary: he’s always been calculating in addressing his grievances, mostly at the expenses of the powerful and dishonest and mainly in the form of scathing articles; but prone to bursts of rage he has never been. However, sharing a body with Venom has brought about many changes – why shouldn’t this be one of them?

“Stop it,” Eddie all but growls through gritted teeth, and the symbiote cackles in his mind, making him march around his pathetic excuse for a living room like a fucking marionette. “I mean it, V. Stop it _right now_.”

Of course, Venom doesn’t stop.

And really, Eddie doesn’t know why this, of all things, is the last straw; doesn’t know why he’s perfectly okay with snacking on heads, being pinned to his bed for hours on end, having his thoughts constantly scoured for juicy bits of private information, and yet _this_ is where he draws the line. All he knows is that, for a moment, he desperately wishes he could give Venom a taste of his own medicine.

“I said _stop_!”

He doesn’t expect it to work. Venom rarely lets go of amusement when he gets his hands – tentacles? – on it, in whatever form it may come. And fucking around with Eddie? Definitely one of his favorite activities.

Which is why he’s surprised when his body goes perfectly still, arms falling to the sides without a hint of resistance, like a doll with cut strings.

There’s no clever remark, no smug ‘I’m-letting-you-off-because-I’m-feeling-magnanimous’ kind of thought slung carelessly his way. Only an eerie, uncomfortable silence.

For a moment, Eddie fears that something’s wrong. But there is no alertness coming from Venom, no spike of biomass to cover their body from an imminent threat – in fact, Eddie realizes, he can feel no movement at all.

And then it dawns on him.

Experimentally, he flexes his fingers. The symbiote’s form remains absolutely still, pooled somewhere between his second and third rib.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he mutters in a breath of amazement. Then, laughter bubbles up to his lips. How in the hell did he not think of this sooner?

“Hey, V?” he calls out loud in the dimly-lit living room. “Anything you forgot to share with the class?”

The silence on the other side is still uncomfortable, but not the worrying kind. No, this is circumspect: this is someone who’s been _made_.

“Like, I don’t know…” Eddie keeps going, taking step after careful step. “That I could do _this_?”

He reaches a little further, a little deeper inside the interstitial space where Eddie Brock ends and Venom begins, and relishes the novel sensation of feeling his symbiote _squirm._

_Stop that!_

“Oh, like you did when I asked?”

Venom sends a growl his way that’s halfway between a warning and a whine. His host ignores him.

Eddie’s drunk on his newfound power. In hindsight, that must be the reason Venom can only struggle against his hold whereas, before, he could play him like the world’s easiest fiddle. That, and a good dose of beginner’s luck.

_Eddie. You made your point. Now let us go._

There’s a strange urgency in Venom’s voice – not just annoyance, but restlessness. The clue is accidentally given, but those are Eddie’s favorite ones to follow.

“I guess this isn’t all of it, then.” he calls out, almost careless. Venom’s resumed squirming is answer enough. “I can do more, right?”

That is, more or less, the moment Venom realizes he’s made a gross miscalculation. His host can be so goofy in his everyday life, the symbiote tends to forget he’s actually one of the best investigative reporters in the country. The thought brings him pride and frustration in equal parts.

Eddie breathes in slowly, deeply, and closes his eyes, the way Mrs. Chen’s cousin advises (or seems to; he still doesn’t know any Mandarin), visualizing Venom’s viscous form inside him. Imagines the symbiote’s mass dislodging itself from its nest between his ribs and inching towards his arm, ink underneath his veins.

_What are you doing?!_

“Oh, nothing… just taking _our body_ for a spin,” he replies casually, and wills a slim, black tendril out of the palm of his hand. After all, if Eddie’s body is Venom’s, shouldn’t the reverse be true?

At the sight of the tendril timidly peeking through the layers of his skin, Eddie grins. Venom gives a low rumble of displeasure.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Eddie calls, giddiness still plastered to his face as he plays with a few more tendrils, getting the feel of it. “Not so into it anymore?”

And then, because he likes getting high on the sweet taste of karma, Eddie decides to push his luck and drag the bulk of Venom’s form outside. It’s far from easy: the focus it takes for the slimy form of his symbiote to start peeling away is insane, like playing a piano with one hand tied to his back and a thousand disappointed parents watching. But Eddie is nothing if not stubborn and, drop by drop, Venom emerges against his will and is assembled in a floating head in front of his face. He’s full-on sulking. It’s priceless _._

“ ** _Congratulations. Only took you six months to accomplish the basics,_** ” the symbiote deadpans. Eddie’s grin, if possible, gets even wider.

“Well, you know what they say,” he preens, making shadow puppets out of the biomass of an extremely annoyed alien. “Slow and steady wins the– oh no you don’t!”

Eddie manages to tug back almost immediately, feeling another wave of impatience rushing from the symbiote. “ ** _I will eat both of your kidneys for this._** ”

“Oh, now, c’mon. That’s just being a sore loser.”

He’s having fun now, getting better and better at it – almost like riding E.T.’s bike. Venom catches the stray thought and curses in a way that would have sailors clutching their pearls, which only adds to Eddie’s fun.

The thing with Eddie is, he never knows when to quit. Useful quality to have in his profession, incredibly destructive flaw where his personal life is concerned. Like a dog who has picked up a scent, Eddie follows his hunch further down the rabbit hole and to its logical conclusion. It goes something like this in Eddie’s mind:

  * Venom can block his movements = Eddie can block Venom’s;
  * Venom can move his body = Eddie can move Venom’s;
  * Venom can take over his body completely, slipping inside his features, his voice, and making each his own = well…



It’s not as immediate to put into practice – it takes some time and effort to experiment with this new idea and hold off Venom’s attempts at regaining control at the same time. But, at some point, Venom’s curiosity to see what Eddie is aiming at overrides his determination to resist, and the urgency to get his limbs back abates just enough that his host can slip his consciousness fully inside the gleaming black biomass of his alien roommate…

…And, by reflex, when Eddie’s body goes limp like a puppet, Venom rushes in to fill the void and prevent it from hitting the floor.

It’s unreal. It’s incredible.

“ ** _Amazing,_** ” Eddie says, and almost jumps at the thundering sound of his own voice.

The sensorial inputs are a wonderful, scrambled mess he cannot begin to decode. He grasps at the connection with his own body, the familiar feeling of Venom on the other side of their bond, and he suspects that’s the only reason his mind isn’t going into tailspin from it all.

Venom fixes him a nonplussed stare with his own face. “Happy?”

A toothy grin. “Very,” Eddie replies, succeeding in dialing back some of Venom’s typical gruff (which proves his suspicion that some of it is, in fact, Venom’s own voice, but the rest of it is pure posturing). He stares down at the newly-formed, clawed arms at his sides, the skin glistening with a violet reflection so otherworldly he cannot tear his eyes away.

“Beautiful,” he lets slip, and Venom’s impatience mixes with a creeping, self-conscious flush on his cheeks. The symbiote is not too pleased about it.

What does entrance him, however, is the sight of Eddie’s will carefully maneuvering his body as if it were his own. It makes something raw coil deep inside Venom’s – Eddie’s – stomach, drying his throat and spurring his heartbeat to pick up its pace. He recognizes some of these sensations from Eddie’s past experiences, and a strange panic overcomes him as he realizes just how vulnerable he is right now.

Here. With only a human body. Powerless against a possible offender, all squishy flesh and fragile bones, incapable of even the simplest defense – how do humans even cope with this crippling uncertainty for the rest of their lives? How did Eddie, before he came along?

“Perhaps,” Venom starts to say, clearing his throat, “We have been hasty before. Upon further reflection, we accept your terms, Eddie, and we would like to start right away by allowing you back inside your–”

“Oh, _allowing me_ , huh?”

“–body,” he continues, pretending not to have heard him. “So…”

Eddie’s face – _his_ face, dammit – swirls impossibly close, and Venom takes a reflexive step back against the wall. “Sooo…?”

He may make a fool out of Eddie as a regular past-time, but the symbiote knows his host is smart, sometimes too smart for his own good. Which is why he _knows_ , the second his own eyes start peering down at him, that he’s been made.

“Oh my God,” Eddie all but gasps, which makes Venom’s brow furrow with scorn – that was _not_ a sound _his_ body should be making. “This is actually making you nervous, isn’t it?”

Of course, Venom denies it.

“I am literally inside your head,” Eddie reminds him. “Well, more than that now. You can’t lie to me, y’know.”

The symbiote barely bites back the temptation to reply _Watch me_ , because he knows he’s right. He’s _right_ , and underneath the annoyance and the skittishness and the wounded pride, something keeps coiling low in Venom’s belly, spreading heat and a magnetic pull that leaves his pupils dilated and his breath cut short. It’s not an unfamiliar sensation, although almost entirely human. He’s done this to Eddie enough times to recognize it for what it is.

Eddie reaches up with one tendril along the side of his face and just… touches him.

“Wow,” he sighs in amazement. “So that’s how it feels like.”

“Like what feels like?” Venom bites back, trying to keep his voice even.

“Touching you. Like, _really_ touching you.” The tendril makes its way down Venom’s – Eddie’s – neck, tracing his collarbone, almost feather-light. “No retreating, no liquefying whenever you feel like it, just… having you there. The way you have me.”

Eddie is aware that, as far as weird goes – and they’ve done _weird_ – this probably takes the cake. Because that’s _his_ body right there, in front of him, backed up against a wall and flushed in all the right places.

But then, it’s also so clearly not _him._ Venom is in every crease, every twitch, every micro-expression. Solid and, for all the clothes on his back, more naked than he’s ever seen him.

And just like that, something overcomes Eddie. A _hunger_. It urges him to wrap closer, closer, enveloping Venom’s waist with a thousand black coils. There’s a flash of confusion in the symbiote’s eyes, but it doesn’t last long, because then Eddie’s kissing him, wet and clumsy and desperately trying not to maim.

Venom shivers against him and immediately tries to rein it in. This body does not obey him like his own; it starts and betrays and moves all on its own, according to desire rather than reason. Muscle memory guides him through the motions of kissing back with Eddie’s mouth, so familiar to touch and yet so unfamiliar to move this way. It reminds him of the forest, of those instants of overlap in which he was both kissing and being kissed, and he finds himself chasing after Eddie for more.

He raises a hand to Eddie’s – his own – head; another reflex, another instance of this human body taking over and following the raw need for closeness. But Eddie slips through his fingers like space matter, does not allow himself be grabbed, and Venom sighs in frustration.

The need for air is an uncomfortable, inefficient thing, and Venom has to break apart first to give his – Eddie’s – lungs a few mouthfuls of air. For a moment, the symbiote closes his eyes, and that’s when he feels two tendrils slip around his wrists, almost by chance. Eddie wastes no time in pinning them together above his head, and Venom’s frustration grows tenfold.

The question bubbles up, spontaneous, a clear spot in the fog in his mind. _Is this what it feels like?_

There’s nothing Eddie wants more than to answer that question in all sorts of ways; to make Venom feel not just what he feels, but how he feels it. On the other hand, this opportunity is too unique and perfect not to milk a little revenge out of it.

“I’ll show you, if you want,” Eddie murmurs close to his ear. Venom can feel the tip of his tongue brush against the sensitive skin of his lobe as he speaks. “But I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

Venom keeps his gaze steady, staring straight in Eddie’s white eyes as soon as they come into view. It takes a significant portion of his willpower not to close them as a clawed hand comes up under his shirt, just on the edge of the waistband. The symbiote curses his squishy, sensitive body for it.

“Say what?” Venom breathes back, almost defiantly.

Eddie’s voice is a casual, gravelly lull. “Yes. Or no,” he replies, letting his tendril travel along the waistband of his most comfortable pair of sweatpants. It’s nice and loose and it hides nothing. He lets another tendril trail softly just a bit lower, where the fabric is markedly _not_ loose any longer. “Or _please_ ,” he adds, black mass pooling downwards to shape torso, hips, legs…

There’s something entrancing about this new game Eddie seems interested in playing – this dance for control. And Venom just _loves_ games.

If Eddie had any lungs left, any oxygen to release or to hold, the breath would catch in his throat at the sight of his symbiote’s trademark, wicked toothy grin on his own face. No sharp fangs, no alien eyes – just Eddie’s features twisted in a beautiful impression of Venom.

“We shall see about that,” he simply says, drawing something primal from the bottom of Eddie’s lungs to stain his voice with dust and gravel. And then, just to prove he doesn’t need a thousand tentacles or superhuman powers to toy with him, he pushes his hips forward and _grinds_. Slowly, without breaking eye contact for one. Single. Second. “Do your worst, Eddie.”

And God, the way he says Eddie’s _name_ ; like it’s something filthy and delicious that he can’t wait to devour. It sends electricity rippling through Eddie’s form, right alongside the feedback loop of pleasure from where their bodies collide. And then there’s something else – something swirling in the air, something he can _taste_ , that leaves him heady and wanting more. Venom had mentioned a few times feeding off brain chemicals, something Eddie didn’t quite understand the appeal of… until now.

Licking his lips, Eddie mirrors the symbiote’s grin and picks up the gauntlet with glee.

Without wasting a second, a clawed hand drags upwards along Venom’s stomach, lifting up his shirt. The symbiote is playing cool and unaffected, and Eddie relishes the thought of ripping that aplomb bit by bit off his flushed face. A thought Venom must sense, because a shiver betrays his act almost right away. Slowly, he draws a circle around the sensitive skin of a nipple, keeping the pressure just on the right side of pain. Despite himself, Venom draws in a sharp breath, watching Eddie’s every move with intent and wide, wide pupils.

When Eddie’s tongue follows in the wake of his claw, there’s a surge of something delicious across their bond. It’s spicy-sweet and inebriating, and Eddie realizes it must be dopamine. He gives another swirl of his tongue, taking care to envelop Venom’s nipple completely, and the chemical reward for it is heady. But he shakes himself out of it: this isn’t about him, is it?

Not that Venom seems to mind. His body gives one more shiver as another clawed hand comes up to his hip, scratching lightly, while Eddie’s tongue trails lower, away from the symbiote’s chest and towards a more promising spot.

“I thought you wanted me to beg, Eddie?” Venom teases, betrayed in his impatience by the unsteadiness of his voice, as Eddie frees him of the obstacle of clothes from the waist down.

Eddie’s tongue stops just short of relief. “Patience, babe. All in good time.” And then, without warning, he wraps his tongue completely around him.

He soaks up the way Venom’s breath is knocked out of his lungs, the soft buckle of his legs. Planting his hands firmly on either side of the symbiote’s hips, he keeps them upright and very, very still.

Eddie’s mind barely registers that he’s technically sucking _himself_ off. At this point, his _body_ barely registers as his anymore – not any more his than Venom’s slick mass. Granted, it’s still a little weird, but the sensation fades as other, more pleasant ones rush to replace it. After all, it’s hard to feel bad about anything that feels as good as this.

Venom struggles briefly against the restraints, pushed by the strong instinct to grab down at Eddie. It’s muscle memory, once again not his, but it’s just as well, and frustration builds in the wake of the aborted motion. He sighs into the warmth of Eddie’s tongue, which seems to know just how to twist and turn to tear into his weakening self-control.

It feels different to be on the receiving end of it. He always shares in Eddie’s feelings and sensations, but now it feels like there’s a step missing; like when Eddie forgets to run his soft-boiled eggs under cold water before cracking the shells. It’s a scalding, first-hand experience – and Venom realizes, with mounting frustration, that nothing could’ve prepared him for it.

Eddie licks wet, leisurely stripes from base to tip, teasing at the sensitive spot where his own salty taste is starting to peek through. He’s had this body his entire life: he knows exactly which buttons to press and doesn’t hesitate to press them all in slow, maddening succession. Before long, Venom feels his lungs betray him – _weak squishy body dammit motherfuck_ – and he starts panting hard. He’s making sounds, too, sounds he can only try so hard to bite back before they climb through the barrier of his lips regardless and send a spike of delight rushing across their bond from Eddie’s side. Eddie smirks into the flesh of his thigh. “Something to say, love?”

It’s a treat, getting to watch Venom like this. Whenever he’s slithering around him and inside him, if not for the ripples of pleasure traveling across their bond, Eddie would have no way to tell whether the symbiote was affected by it at all. His alien body betrays nothing, only gives minuscule cues Eddie has learned to interpret with time and observation.

But now? Now Venom has nowhere to hide.

Eddie licks some more, languidly, swirling around the tip just enough to hear the back of the symbiote’s head knocking against the wall, and then he trails off to toy with the spots where hips meet thighs. He nibbles at the soft skin of the inner thigh, having figured out how to manipulate the length of Venom’s teeth to suit his needs, and the silent gasp he gets in return is music to his ears.

He decides to reward him. Wrapping his new, incredibly prehensile tongue around taut flesh, Eddie mimics a sucking motion that has Venom sinking his teeth into his lower lip and cursing.

For a moment, Eddie wants nothing more than to give them both the relief they’re longing for. It would be easy – Venom is so, so close: one good suck from base to tip and they would topple over the edge together, climax shaking them to their core. The symbiote can sense his thought, can taste the sweet promise of release, and a soft sound comes from his lips, now parted once again in desperate search for air.

But just then, Eddie pulls his tongue back, taking care not to brush against any of the spots Venom is aching to be touched in. It takes all of his self-control and then some, but he still hasn’t heard the magic word for it.

He rises to his feet under the symbiote’s resentful gaze. Venom tries to get some friction out of him nonetheless, if only to prove he cannot be denied, but Eddie is not going to fall for the same trick twice. He edges back and, shooting two more tendrils out of his body – he could get used to this – he pins Venom’s legs in place against the wall.

“You missed a spot,” the symbiote teases, but it comes out so strained it sounds almost like a plea.

“Did I now?” Eddie asks innocently, claws curving along the line of Venom’s jaw. He brings a knee to rest between the symbiote’s thighs, but it’s just far enough that there’s nothing he can actually do with it. Venom gives a disgruntled groan, staring daggers up at him. It’s strange, being taller by almost a head, towering over Venom and enjoying the feeling of _him_ having to tilt up his chin for once. “Maybe there’s something you could say to remind me.”

Venom just smirks. “Or maybe you should concede defeat.” He cranes his neck up so they’re face to face, and Eddie comes down to meet him, lips almost touching. “We are thousands of years old, Eddie. Our molecules are made of eons. We have the patience of the universe on our side, and we will not– _ah!_ ”

Eddie wriggles his newest tendril experimentally, sliding inside the tight heat of Venom’s body with ease. “Do go on,” he encourages, pushing lazily in and out, stretching muscle and pulling delicious sounds from Venom’s throat each time.

“We– we… Will not…!”

Venom curses in his mind. Every single part of his body feels like it’s being lit up from the inside. He is _not_ a creature of restraint – all he’s ever known is _take, take, take_. If he’s hungry, he eats. If he wants something, he makes it his. If someone’s lips look inviting, in the darkness of an alien forest…

“You know,” Eddie says, dragging along the walls of Venom’s body with purposefulness. When he finally takes his tendril out, he replaces it with something other, something thicker, materializing it just outside of Venom’s body. “You always say I’m yours. _Mine_ here, _mine_ there… but you always seem to forget.” He takes his chin between two clawed fingers and presses just a little bit closer. “You’re _mine_ , too.”

Venom stares into the pools of Eddie’s eyes, and that’s when he _sees_ it. The same hunger. The same raw need to mark and possess and _make him his._ He realizes he’s had plenty of opportunities to do just that, took all of them – but he hasn’t given Eddie many chances to do the same. And now Eddie is starving for him, and starving _him_ , all at once.

He feels teeth brush against the sensitive skin of his neck – feels the pressure around his wrists and legs fade out. Feels the rush of being kissed and revered, a high that goes straight into his veins and threatens to make his weak, fragile human heart explode. He wonders, distantly, through a haze as thick as fog, when exactly it was that Eddie Brock gained the power to bring him to absolute ruin like this. It’s too much, and it’s not nearly enough.

Venom’s hands come up on either side of Eddie’s head, and Eddie makes the skin solid enough for Venom to sink his nails in. It feels good to be like this, on the verge of sinking into each other – of becoming one, like they’re meant to be.

He wants more.

“Very well,” the symbiote sighs, drawing their foreheads together. _More._ “Make us yours, Eddie. Make us _one_.”

The spike of adrenaline that shoots through their bond is almost enough to tip them over.

Eddie hikes Venom up and holds him in place against the wall, wasting no time at all. The symbiote wraps both arms around Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging in possessively at the base of his neck, and locks his legs around his hips as his host lines up with him, close enough for Venom to ache with emptiness. _More_.

Eddie gives a low, soft sigh as a wave of chemicals hits him like a freight train. When he takes Venom, he rocks slowly into him, trembling with the effort of restraint. He feels the symbiote shudder against him, pressing down on him, with all of his host’s enthusiasm and none of his patience, growling _More_ and _Eddie_ and _mine_ right where his ear would be.

“For God’s sake, V,” Eddie groans as he slams his hands against the symbiote’s palms, pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. “Keep moving like this, and we won’t make it one more minute.”

Venom just pushes down harder, shooting him a wrecked, devilish grin. “Is that so?”

Eddie decides he’s going to wipe it off his face. He pulls back almost completely, his symbiote already squirming to chase after him, before thrusting back in with enough force he suspects his body will make him regret it for days.

For now, though, it tears a wonderful sound out of Venom’s throat, and the pressure is finally enough to keep him still. There’s something intoxicating about having Venom like this, completely at his mercy, and it does something to him, carves out a black hole of hunger at the very center of his being. He realizes with a jolt that he almost wants to eat him, swallow him up whole until there isn’t a single molecule left, and the fact that he doesn’t know which part of him wants that is terrifying in a twisted way that has him shaking on the inside.

He does the next best thing and thrusts into Venom again, hard and deep, drawing another sound of bliss that goes straight to his head. They find a rhythm, and for most people it would be madness, but for them it’s perfect, and exhilarating, and still not quite enough. The feedback is insane, pulsating from the symbiote to his host and then back around, melting with new sensations and reaching heights that are theirs to conquer, only theirs. And Venom is singing into it, shameless, hanging on to every sensation with unparalleled greed.

The rushes of chemicals grow stronger, more frequent and intense, like the taste of a freshly squeezed lemon on the tip of the tongue. Eddie finds himself chasing after them, craving more, and it’s following the trail that he finally realizes that Venom is feeding them to him on purpose, in perfect tandem with each of his thrusts. Eddie never knew that he could do that – that, if he focused hard enough, he could figure out how to give Venom’s alien body exactly what it needed, in the exact right amount. Venom is wrecking him without touching, without even looking at him, and it’s driving him insane.

“Harder,” the symbiote growls, knuckles going white around his iridescent fingers. “Faster. _More_ , Eddie.” The thought of saying _no_ doesn’t even cross Eddie’s mind. But he decides that, if he’s going to fuck over his body for the rest of the week, at the very least he wants to make Venom _scream_ for it.

Tendrils snake to touch each and every sensitive spot on Venom’s body, following Eddie’s instructions like a map. They brush and tease and twist and even burn, lashing fast enough to bruise, but Venom takes all of it, demands all of it and then more, more, _more_. When he feels the symbiote teetering on the brink of release, Eddie slides a slick, thick tendril between their bodies and wraps it securely around the base, holding it off. Venom cracks an eye open and just gives him a _look_. It’s between a curse and a plea, and it’s almost cute, Eddie observes, making no effort to keep the thought to himself.

“Eddie…” the symbiote calls, voice breaking deliciously around the vowels. “Don’t deny us. You – _ah_ – you want this, too.” Another tendril comes up to stroke, drawing circles around the sensitive tip, and it’s torture on both of them.

“Ask for it, darling.”

For a second, Venom looks like he wants to argue. But he doesn’t have it in him to go for another clash of wills, not when every inch of his body is set alight and aching for relief.

The symbiote stares into his eyes and, voice melting into a whine, he surrenders. “Eddie, _please_.”

Eddie rocks into him once more, with purpose, targeting the spot that makes them both see stars. Once, twice, again and again, the other tendril still squeezing mercilessly between their bodies. Until pleasure blurs into pain; until there’s no more Eddie, no more Venom, just _them._

One.

“Mine,” Eddie whispers, drinking in the way the symbiote shakes and whimpers in his arms in response, and finally lets go.

As soon as Eddie relaxes his hold, Venom buries his face into the crook of his neck and _bites_. The symbiote’s sharp cry is muffled as he falls over the edge, oxygen knocked out of his body and mind going white. Eddie reverberates with it, the sheer intensity of it, and his hold over the physical form of Venom’s biomass starts slipping with alarming speed. But it’s not enough yet. He wants to go deeper, deeper still, deeper than skin and bone and blood. He surges forward and suddenly there’s nothing between them, bodies blending perfectly into one another, consciousnesses overlapping, thoughts swirling together in the same fog of devastating pleasure.

When they come to again, Eddie’s legs buckle, and Venom shoots out to unsteady tendrils to keep them upright. Slowly, they slide to the floor, the symbiote wrapped around every inch of his host’s body in a protective layer of black mass. It takes a while for Eddie to catch his breath and for Venom to re-emerge from the state of fucked out bliss he’s sunk in, one that reverberates across them both. Eddie feels oddly proud of it.

 _Our body_ , Venom calls softly. He maneuvers them over to the couch, not without a few stumbles, and proceeds to curl up in Eddie’s lap in a contented ball.

“Our _bodies_ ,” Eddie corrects. He’s still breathless and spent, but nothing is ever going to keep Eddie Brock from fact-checking. “Wow. I still can’t believe I did that.”

Venom hums in the back of his mind. _Can’t believe it took you this long to figure out you could._

“Hey, some of us have boundaries. You should try that sometime.”

_Says the one who just gave a whole other meaning to the phrase ‘go fuck yourself’._

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie yawns, stretching out and relishing the warmth of Venom gliding over every inch of his skin like the world’s comfiest blanket.

_No. Just my loser._

Eddie feels himself smile. He nuzzles into Venom, not caring how sappy he looks right now. After all, he’s hardly the only one. “So, what have we learned today?”

The symbiote ponders for a moment.

_That boundaries are for suckers._

“That’s the worst reading comprehension I’ve ever heard.”

_And that you are mine._

“Yours,” Eddie confirms, feeling the haze of sleep starting to take hold. “And so are you.”

As he dozes off, he hears a faint voice in the back of his mind. It sounds oddly proud, too. _And so am I._

Sleep comes easily after that.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm oddly proud of this baby as well! I just took my last three exams at uni and my first thought was YES DAMN FINALLY I CAN WRITE THE THING!!! (and write the thing I did). God bless priorities.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed it!


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